


Hospital For Souls

by ATaleOfTwoCaitlins



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Erica is Adorable, Graphic Depiction of Panic Attacks, Isaac is Troubled, Lydia Cares Way More Than She Lets On, Multi, On Hiatus, Panic Attacks, Sheriff Stilinski and Lydia Are Partners In Crime, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapist!derek, past depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATaleOfTwoCaitlins/pseuds/ATaleOfTwoCaitlins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4. </p><p>Hold it. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. </p><p>Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.</p><p> </p><p>Stiles was used to managing his anxiety on his own, despite his father's best efforts to get him to open up. However, at the arrival of a shrink with a decidedly different approach, Stiles begins to realise that he doesn't have to deal with things alone. That he can let someone into his life without having to have them leave. He discovers that he can breathe on his own, but breathes deeper in company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We're Going To Try Something New Today

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's Cat here. So, two things about this account aren't STRICTLY true. One is that this was meant to be a joint account for me and Caitlin V to post things we work on together. The other is that it was originally meant for Destiel fics. And fear not, both of those things ARE coming. But, in the meantime, a little bit of Sterek to keep you busy. It's a little slow and is a work in progress, but I promise there will be some cuteness soon enough. Also, sassy Lydia. Because who doesn't love that? 
> 
> Now, I would like to warn you here that there WILL be some graphic descriptions of panic attacks in this at some point. I'll put a note on the chapters where they will occur, but I wanted to make you all aware. I understand that panic attacks are different for everyone, so those in this work will be based on my own knowledge and experience. Also, there will be a running theme of anxiety and mental illness (as you may have picked up), but anything extreme, of which there is likely to be little, will come with a warning.
> 
>  
> 
> Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, massive thanks to Caitlin V for being my beta and eternally putting up with me throwing headcanons at her like nobody's business)

“So, Stiles. How are you feeling today?”

It was a question countless times spoken, and rarely honestly answered. 

Stiles stared blankly at the carpet, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. It was a wooden frame with a fabric hammock seat, like a deckchair. A long pillow rested across the bottom of his back, and to top off the ‘this is a place for people way more insane than me’ atmosphere, the chair glide-rocked back and forth slowly, as Stiles pushed off the floor with his toes. The whole room was painted off-white, and the blind was drawn down, providing a yellowish haze. 

Of course, Stiles has already psychoanalysed the room upon entry. It was something he did a lot, so he knew his surroundings. Risks, possible causes of trauma, escape routes. It put him at peace.

However, he struggled to analyse the man sat in front of him. He wore a grey button down shirt and a black tie, and his hair was black and ruffled. Thick-rimmed glasses sat on his nose; making his scarily still grey eyes seem much larger. His expression was soft, yet inquisitive. Like he wanted to know what Stiles felt not only because it was his job, but also because he was interested. 

“I’m fine.” He finally answered, wanting to give the man at least some kind of response.  
“I get that a lot. I’ll give you the same response I give everybody who tells me that: If you were fine, you wouldn’t be here.”  
“Alright. I’m fine, but my dad thinks I’m not.”  
“So it was your dad who signed you up?”  
“Yes.”

Pause.

“How many shrinks have you had, Stiles?”  
“Way more than I need.”  
“And how many have you actually spoken to?’  
“Four.”  
“Including me?”  
“Yes. In fact, this is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with a shrink.”  
“Wow, and we haven’t even mentioned why you’re here yet.”  
“I told you, I’m here because my dad-“  
“No, Stiles,” the man interrupted, “Why you’re really here.”

This guy was pushy. Normally the shrinks just give up after a little while when they realise how persistent a character Stiles is. 

“Fine. You really want to know? Long story short-“  
“Hold up- I don’t do short stories. Give me long story long.”  
“Really? We’re gonna do that?”

The man nodded, giving a small smile. Stiles wrinkled his nose, but continued carefully.

“I lost my mom. When I was a kid. Since then, I’ve had panic attacks. Lots of em.”  
“So you have a panic disorder?”

Stiles visibly flinched.

“Could you not use that word?”  
“What, disorder?”  
“Yeah. Makes me uncomfortable.”  
“I can see a lot of things make you uncomfortable, Stiles.”  
“Oh yeah? How can you tell that?”  
“You’ve analysed this whole room, haven’t you? I saw you do it on the way in. you’ve noticed that the window behind you doesn’t bolt properly so you could shimmy it open pretty easy. You can see my desk is wobbly so you could break it easily and use parts of it as a weapon. And, most worrying of all, you’ve checked to see if that curtain rail could hold your weight. You think no, but I’d say you’re about 140, so I think it could hold you.”  
“Did you really just tell someone you’re supposed to be counselling that they could feasibly hang themselves in your office? What kind of shrink are you? And for your information, I’m 147. Anything over 145 would be too risky. ”  
“So you have thought about it?”

Silence. 

“Yes. If that’s what your twisted little ears want to hear, then yes.”  
“Tell me about your triggers, Stiles.”  
“My what?”  
“Your triggers. Things that set you off; cause your panic attacks.”  
“I don’t know. They come seemingly out of nowhere, but the risk of one is always there. It’s like this looming presence, like something bad is going to happen all the time.”  
“So you’re scared?”  
“That’s one way of saying it. I’m more apprehensive. Why do you ask so many questions?”

The man let his head fall back and laughed.

“It’s my job. I have to ask questions. Tell you what- how about you ask me something?”  
“What’s your name?”  
“I’m Doctor-“  
“No, no. Your real name.”  
“Derek. My name is Derek.”  
“Ok, Derek. Why did you become a carer for the mentally unwell?” Stiles smiled mockingly.  
“I wanted to help people.”  
“So why not become a real doctor?”  
“Well, I tried. I wasn’t great at the practical elements as such, but they said my bedside manner was better than any student they’d ever seen. They recommended I go into psychiatrics.”  
“Well, I can assure you your chair-side manner is delightful.”  
“That feels like sarcasm. Noted.”  
“It’s good that you can pick up on it. Goes over a lot of people’s heads. Gets me in a lot of trouble, too.”  
“So you’re a troublemaker?”  
“Not intentionally. Other people make trouble, I tend to get caught up in it.”  
“Are any of your friends troublemakers?”  
“I wouldn’t say so. I’d call them adventurous.”  
“Really? How so?”  
“Well, this one time, me and Scott-“

Stiles was cut off by a beeping sound resonating from a small box on Derek’s desk.

“Ah, that’s our time up. Good session, it’s nice to hear you talk. I’ve got a lot of notes, and I’d like to have you back for some more sessions in the next few weeks. Mostly to hear you finish that story.”  
“Ok, thanks I guess.”  
“See you next week, then?”  
“I suppose so.”

Stiles stood up to leave, and Derek stood to shake his hand. With an awkward half-smile and a lingering silence, Stiles slid out of the door into the hallway and immediately rushed for the exit, desperate to get out into the fresh, cool outside air.

~

He tried to enter the house quietly, honest to god he did. But, as he softly shut the door and turned into the kitchen, he let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding in, and sighed at the sight of his father sat at the kitchen table surrounded by papers, his glasses perched on his nose.

“How did it go?” he asked, not looking up from the table so as not to make his son feel interrogated.  
“Fine.”  
“Did you talk to him?”  
“As a matter of fact, I did.”

That made John’s head perk up, looking around to lock eyes on Stiles, who was rooting around in the fridge.

“Really? What about?’  
“The weather. What do you think we talked about?”  
“Watch it, you. So, Dr. Hale-“  
“Derek.”  
“First name terms after one session? You must really like this one.”  
“I guess so. He’s different, y’know? Good different. He didn’t try and go too deep too quickly. We barely scratched the surface. To be honest, it was nice to just have a conversation with someone without it leading to ‘so why did you run out of class today?’ or ‘why are you crying in the bathroom?’ or ‘why won’t your hands stop shaking?’ It was nice. I’m going back next week.”

John smiled a little, happy to see his son so enthusiastic. This, for Stiles, was what qualified as enthusiastic when it came to his mental health. He’d been a little reluctant to talk about things, and seemed to want to handle things on his own. John knew better than that, and he knew that Stiles needed someone. He’d tried talking to Scott to see if he could offer some friendly support, but the poor boy just didn’t know what to say. So, John began looking for shrinks. Stiles rolled his way through them, not really clicking with any of the varying professionals whose offices he rotated through for months on end. He let it slip for a while after one of the shrinks actually induced a panic attack in Stiles rather than helping with them, resulting in Stiles lashing out and almost breaking the guy’s jaw when he tried to calm him down. So yeah, it was a pleasant surprise to hear that Stiles had found one he liked. Maybe this one really would be different, and maybe Stiles wouldn’t try and kill or maim Derek before he got a chance to help.


	2. Nobody Expects The Spanish Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, the one where Lydia is fabulous and Stiles accidentally comes out of the closet. Featuring resident puppy dog best friend Scott McCall.
> 
> Additionally, this work and the first chapter were named after the song Hospital For Souls by Bring Me The Horizon. This one is named after the All-American Rejects song. I like naming things after songs, because they are usually where I get my inspiration from anyway. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has already red and bookmarked this, you're the ones who make me want to keep writing it and not leave it unfinished. Y'all are great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup guys! The response to the first chapter of this was way better than expected, so I threw together a second to keep you occupied while I figure out where the hell this is actually going.
> 
> Additionally, this work and the first chapter were named after the song Hospital For Souls by Bring Me The Horizon. This one is named after the All-American Rejects song. I like naming things after songs, because they are usually where I get my inspiration from anyway. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has already read and bookmarked this, you're the ones who make me want to keep writing it and not leave it unfinished. Y'all are great.
> 
>  
> 
> All mistakes are my own, because for once I didn't send this to Caitlin V to proof-read because I got too excited about posting it (sorry about that one, dude).

As Stiles swung his bedroom door shut and turned around, he did not expect there to be anyone else in the room. No one ever expects the Spanish Inquisition, and apparently no one expects Lydia Martin either.

The redhead was perched on the end of Stiles’ bed, a cardigan hanging off of her shoulders and her trademark smirk on her glossy lips.

“How did it go?” she asked.  
“Whoa whoa, how about we start with ‘how did you get in’ and ‘why are you here’ and then maybe I’ll let you ask me some questions.” Stiles responded, tiredness present in his voice.

Lydia said nothing, but held up a small silver key.

“Having a key to Jackson’s place, that I understand. But a key to my house?”  
“For emergencies.”  
“And today is an emergency?”  
“Not as such, but you getting a hot new shrink and not telling me is an emergency in my book. Now sit.”  
“Ok, before I tell you anything about Derek-“  
“Derek? First name terms with this one?” she smiled deviously.  
“Shut up. Before I tell you anything about my new shrink, you have to tell me how you know I even have a new shrink.”  
“Stiles, your dad tells me everything. He knows I’ll keep an eye on you and make sure you’re ok when he can’t. He worries about you, Stiles. Besides, I’d find out through any means necessary if I had to. This kind of news just doesn’t get past me. So, what’s he like?’

Stiles sighed, but submitted to Lydia’s questioning. He’d learned over the years that there was no point in fighting her.

“He’s nice, ok? He gets me, if that makes sense. He seems to understand that pushing me into talking doesn’t work and it just freaks me out.”  
“What does he look like?”

Stiles rolls his eyes.

“He looks like a frigging Playgirl model, is that what you want to hear? Dark hair, nice smile, glasses.”  
“Honey, Playgirl models don’t wear glasses.”  
“And you expect me to know that, how? Besides, that’s not the point. He’s handsome, but I’m not going to go after him. He’s my shrink, not my boyfriend. The relationship has to be kept purely professional.”  
“Yeah, I totally believe you didn’t spend the whole appointment fantasizing about him. Definitely not.”  
“You are a menace.”  
“I know. It’s one of my best qualities, don’t you think?”

~

After Lydia finally left, Stiles texted Scott. Ever since he’d been around when Stiles had a panic attack, he’d begun to worry about him. Scott was the only person Stiles had ever told about seeing a shrink, and was the only one besides his dad (and now Lydia) who knew.

Message from Stiles: Saw my new shrink today. I like this one, he’s nice.

Message from Scott: That’s great!!! I’m proud of you man. Maybe try not to punch this one, ok?? ;)

Message from Stiles: Shut up ;) I would never punch Derek. I wouldn’t want to ruin such a nice face.

Stiles regretted the text as soon as he sent it.

“No. No no no, come back. Come back!” he whispered angrily at his phone, trying to keep his voice down. 

 

Stiles hadn’t formally told Scott that he was gay yet. He normally told Scott everything, but he could never seem to find the words. These definitely didn't seem like the right words to break the news to his best friend. Lydia only knew because she once caught him checking Danny out when he bent over to pick up a book in the school library.

A message beeped through a few minutes later, and Stiles held his breath.

 

Message from Scott: I swear to god Stiles if you end up dating your shrink I’m going to murder you

 

Seems like he took that well.

 

Message from Stiles: Was it that obvious?

The reply came through almost immediately.

Message from Scott: Painfully so.

Message from Stiles: I’m sorry for not telling you.

Message from Scott: It’s ok, bro. I know it’s a tough thing to tell people, even me. But now that I know, if anything does happen between you and Dr Handsome, you can tell me. Ok??

Stiles smiled. He really was grateful to have Scott around, even if he could be a bumbling idiot a lot of the time. 

Message from Stiles: Promise.

 

Stiles tossed his phone onto his side table and settled onto his bed, trying (and ultimately failing) not to think too much about the kind face of his latest privacy-invader (he’d taken to referring to shrinks as that after about the third one).


	3. Lumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where we start to incorporate more people into the picture and learn a little more about why Stiles needs Derek's help.
> 
>  
> 
> (This chapter was named after the song Lumi by a little band called Ashestoangels, who you should definitely check out. A lot of their songs are very relevant to the kind of thing this work revolves around, so you can expect a few chapters to be named after their music.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, another chapter has surfaced, this time with a little bit more detail and a wee bit of emotion (hooray!). Once again I got a bit excited and didn't send this off to be beta'd, so all mistakes are my own. Hope you enjoy!

Stiles strolled into the waiting room at about 5:20pm, a little early for his appointment. His dad had actually looked at him in awe when he left the house not just on time, but early for his session with Derek. 

He smiled at the receptionist, as she looked up at him from her desk, her dark eyes surrounded by too much eyeliner, her blonde hair cascading onto her shoulders. She probably would have looked a bit threatening if it weren’t for the huge smile that took up half her face as she flashed it at Stiles.

“Hello. You must be… Stiles?”  
“That’s me. Sorry, I’m a little early.”  
“That’s fine, sweetie. Dr. Hale is just finishing up with a patient; he’ll be with you in a minute. Okay?”  
“Great.”

Stiles pursed his lips and attempted a smile, before taking a seat in one of the lumpy chairs in front of Erica’s desk. He hated it when people like him were referred to as ‘patients’. He preferred ‘clients’ or ‘candidates’. Something a bit less clinical. 

Minutes later, a tall boy with curly hair skulked out of Derek’s office, turning back to give the man a small smile as he shoved his hands into his pockets and made for the door. As his head swung back round, he met Stiles’ eyes and gave a nod of silent acknowledgement. Stiles vaguely recognised the kid from the back of his Chemistry class, and it made him wonder why he was seeing Derek. Speak of the devil, the man of the hour leaned out of his door and smiled broadly.

“Stiles? You ready?”

Stiles got up slowly and crossed the room, making another effort at a smile for Erica on the way, still no match for her almost neon grin. 

He settled down in the hammock chair, placing the long cushion in the small of his back after picking it up from where it had clearly been thrown to the floor. He gave Derek a questioning look.

“Some of the patients get a little… irate. They choose to take it out on the furniture and not me, which I’m thankful for.” He smirked.  
“The kid who was in here last. He goes to my school.” Stiles mumbled quietly.  
“I know. Maybe you should talk to him. You two might be able to help each other out.”

There was a pause as Derek shuffled his papers before sighing heavily and letting his contented smile keep its place on his lips.

“So. I’ve been dying to know the end of that story you were telling me last week. About you and Scott getting into trouble?”

Stiles stuttered for a second, a little taken aback by the fact that he hadn’t gotten the usual questions about his mood and how he was feeling.

“Yeah, so this one time, we kind of… broke into the school.”  
“You didn’t.”  
“We did. It was the middle of the night, and we drove all the way over and Scott vaulted the fence because he used to be on the gymnastics team and we went into the principles office and screwed around with the loudspeaker and then went and rearranged our Econ room and ran our lacrosse coach’s team jacket up the flagpole and-“  
“Are you on medication for your ADHD?” Derek interrupted.  
“What? No.”  
“Hm. I think you should be. I could be wrong, but I think your overactive mind could be a contributing factor to your anxiety. Anyway, let’s not think about that right now. Was that all you did in the school?”  
“Well, Scott was still bitter about the whole gymnastics thing, so he might have messed up some of the equipment and caused a few minor injuries to his replacement, but I was already in the car by that point so I have no solid proof that it was him.”

Derek actually belly-laughed at that, his face crinkling and eyes squinting shut, the sound resonating off of the magnolia walls and probably being heard by everyone in the building. It was actually kind of cute how his hand came up to cover his mouth, to stop Stiles seeing the fact his front two teeth were a little bigger than the rest (he noticed anyway). 

“Well, you two certainly sound like a pair. What is Scott like in general? You know, when he’s not full of gymnastics related vengeance.”

“He’s a good kid. He’s always been there for me, through everything. When mom…” Stiles paused, cleared his throat. “When my mom died, he would always make sure I was ok, y’know? Like sometimes he wouldn’t even ask me straight, but he’d tell me to text him when I got home from his place or from school, to make sure I was safe. He’d stay at my house for days just because I think he was a little afraid to leave. He hated seeing what it was doing to me, we were just kids, both of us. He knows about all this,” he gestured to the room around him, and to Derek, “He knows I’m seeing you.”

“When did you tell him?’

“I didn’t, actually. Couldn’t find the words. That happens a lot. Scott always manages to get things out of me eventually, sometimes not even by his own accord. He was with me when I had a panic attack. He came over on mom’s birthday last year. He’d forgotten what day it was, but I didn’t mind. He asked why I’d been a little off that day, and I told him I was fine, but he pushed and pushed until eventually he’d backed me into a corner without realising. I totally freaked out and he wound up calling his mom- she’s a nurse, by the way- because he didn’t know what to do. She told him I was having a panic attack by the sounds of it. She talked him through calming me down, and then we sat on my living room floor for god knows how long. And we just… talked. About everything, and about stupid stuff that didn’t matter. It helped. That was actually when my dad started looking for shrinks again.”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what you just did?”

“Yeah, I answered you. I told you about Scott.”

“No, you didn’t. You told me what Scott means to you, and then you told me about your panic attacks, and about your mom. I didn’t ask you any of that. Why did you feel you could tell me that, Stiles?”  
“I don’t… I don’t know. I trust you, I guess? I’m not sure why I said any of that. But I suppose it’s for the best, what with me being here and all. Might as well tell you something.”

“I know you’re not the type to tell anyone you don’t trust anything, so I’m actually very flattered you chose me to open up to. I hope we can continue like this. Now, your dad gave me a list of emergency contacts and their relation to you: him, obviously, Scott McCall, Melissa McCall- Scott’s mom, I presume-, but there’s one person here who just has a question mark next to their name.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me about Lydia.”

~

That conversation took up the rest of the session, Stiles talking in detail about all of the attempts he’d made to impress Lydia since he was a kid, and how now they were actually pretty good friends. He also told Derek about her showing up in his room the week before- leaving out a few of the more personal details, of course.

As the session came to an end, Derek scrawled something down on a scrap of paper and slipped it into Stiles’ hand.

“That’s my phone number. If you ever need anything outside of a session, if you need someone to talk to or you have a panic attack and you’re alone- you call me. I give it to all the people who talk to me after their second session, or when it shows that they’re committed to getting help.”

Stiles stopped for a minute, carefully slipping the paper into his hoodie pocket, and smiling awkwardly.

“Thank you. I’ll see you next week?”

“Next week. And hey, try and keep Scott out of trouble, huh?”

Stiles gave a final wave as he left the office, shutting the door gently behind him. He full on grinned at Erica as he passed her desk, striding out of the door and into the night.


	4. Welcome To The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because no one can resist a little bit of Scisaac. Not even me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter title comes courtesy of Avenged Sevenfold. Thanks, fellas. 
> 
> Once again, un-beta'd because I got excited.

~

Isaac was sat alone in the corner of the cafeteria the following Monday when something caught in his peripheral vision. He looked up slowly from his lunch to see a skinny kid who looked for all the world like his legs might snap in half bumbling over to him with a tray in his hands, a cautious half smile being shot towards Isaac’s seat.

“Hi. Isaac, right?” the stranger asked quietly.  
“Yeah.” Isaac replied, a hushed whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear.  
“I’m Stiles. I saw you the other day, at Der- Uh, at Dr. Hale’s office.”  
“You call him Derek too?” Isaac offered a small smirk.  
“Yes! Thank god, someone else who does. Do you mind if I sit?”

Isaac hesitated, but nodded and Stiles sat down in the chair opposite him.

“So, why are you seeing Derek, if you don’t mind my asking?” Isaac asked, popping a forkful of his lunch into his mouth.  
“Panic attacks. Derek thinks I have ADHD too, but I think he’s overreacting. I'm just… enthusiastic. What about you?” it came out before he even had the chance to think about it. He barely knew this kid, why was he telling him any of this? And what made him think he would ever tell Stiles-

“PTSD.” 

Stiles almost dropped his fork in his effort to not look shocked. It’s always a shock when you finally find out what’s really going on with someone. Even if you never noticed them before, it never seems right that people who don’t visibly show their problems actually have them. It’s a weird stereotype that Stiles never thought he upheld.

“Oh. Is it helping at all?”  
“Yeah, a little. Derek’s good, isn’t he?”  
“Yeah. Considering how many different shrinks I’ve seen, he’s the only one I’ve ever felt comfortable with.”  
“Really? He’s my first, so I guess I got lucky. I'm living with a friend of mine at the moment, and his mom has kind of adopted me. She wanted me to get some help after the nightmares didn’t stop. They got worse, and she found Derek through a friend who knew his family.”  
“I see. My dad found him a while ago, my best friend’s mom recommended him. You know he trained to be a doctor?”  
“No way! How did he end up as a therapist?”  
“That’s exactly what I asked him! He said they told him his bedside manner was great but his everything else kinda sucked. Yeah, Scott’s mom is a nurse and she helped with his training and stuff before he decided to go into psychiatrics.”  
“I remember you now. You’re Scott’s friend. You two are on the lacrosse team, aren’t you?”  
“Yeah. You tried out this season, if I remember rightly?”  
“Didn’t get in. I still go and watch the games though. Scott’s a really good player…”

Stiles didn’t want to say it. He really didn’t. But, as usual, his mouth worked a lot faster than his brain did.

“You seem very interested in Scott… do I smell a little crush?”

Isaac’s face flushed a deep red, and he curled in on himself, only turning his head up to mumble a tiny ‘No’ before he carried on eating, refusing Stiles’ attempts at eye contact.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I bet if he got to know you properly he’d like you too. You’re his type.”  
“R-really? You think so?”  
“I know Scott, and I know the kind of person he goes for. You’d be great for him.”  
“Even with… with my…” Isaac motioned to the side of his head, and Stiles understood.  
“He won’t care about any of that, your past or anything. He’ll get to know you for you. Do you want to maybe get together some time, and we could invite Scott along so you guys can bond a little?”  
“You’d do that? For me?”  
“Sure, man. We’re friends now. No questions.”  
“Ok.” 

The two finished their lunch and walked to their last class together, passing Scott in the hall on their way. He and Isaac made brief eye contact, and Stiles saw the colour rise in his best friend’s (and new friend’s) cheeks. 

Jackpot.

~

It took Stiles roughly a month to realise he was developing a crush on Derek. Each time Derek turned around to reach for the bookcase behind his desk, Stiles found his eyes wandering to the curve of Derek’s back. He found himself telling more jokes and more stories just for a chance to see Derek’s smile, the way his eyes lit up and his shoulders shook. And every time he shook Derek’s hand at the end of a session, he felt a tiny tingle run up his arm and whoosh into his brain.

Yeah, Stiles had it pretty bad. 

Of course, there’s always that one thing about having crushes on people. Especially the nice ones.

Your parents always LOVE them. 

~

Stiles stumbled into the kitchen on autopilot after an evening at Scott’s (he’d left early because Scott and Isaac were ‘canoodling’ again and he decided to leave before they got a little too close for comfort on his couch). He made for the fridge, calling out to see if his dad was home. 

“Stiles? Come into the dining room. We have a guest.”

Nonchalantly, Stiles cocked his head around the dining room doorway; doing a double take and immediately shooting back round to back against the wall.

“Please don’t be real. So help me god, do not be who I think you are.” he whispered to himself, the words disguised in a heavy breath. 

He slowly turned around fully to face his dad, and the man sat at his dining table, an empty plate and half empty wine glass in front of him.

“Hi, Stiles. We weren’t expecting you home, but this is a pleasure!” Derek smiled broadly, standing up. Stiles put out his hand for Derek to shake, and the man laughed softly.

“Don’t you think we’re a little past that?” 

As Derek’s arms wrapped lightly round Stiles’ shoulders, careful and gentle so as not to crowd him, Stiles’ heart stopped. It skipped and twirled and played jump rope with his arteries, but he managed to regain enough motor function to lift his arms to Derek’s waist, reluctant to touch him. Derek was warm (it was probably the wine. In fact, Derek was hugging him, it was definitely the wine) and despite the awkwardness, he felt safe. He felt like home. 

“I bumped into Derek in town today while I was getting groceries and he told me how well you two had been getting on. And I decided that anyone my son even tolerates deserves to be treated to a home-cooked meal for their efforts.” His dad smirked.

“How come Scott never got a home-cooked meal for his trouble? He’s been putting up with me for a lot longer, y’know.”

“Stiles. I can’t even tell you the number of times I cooked you guys chicken fingers and tater tots when you were kids. Scott should be putting up with you more.”

“That’s fair.”

Derek chuckled at that, turning to pick up his plate and head towards the kitchen.

“Derek, please. Stiles will do that. Sit down.” The sheriff insisted.

“Honestly, it’s the least I can do. Your hospitality is excellent. And besides, I’m sure Stiles has had a long day.” Derek smirked, stepping into the adjoining kitchen, still turned slightly to listen to the conversation.

“Stiles has had a long day.” The teen emphasised, shooting his dad a smile. “It would’ve been longer but Scott and Isaac are actually physically repulsive to me after a little while. God damn, they’re so frigging cute.”

Derek re-emerged at that, quirking an eyebrow.

“Scott finally made a move, huh?”

“Actually, Isaac did. Don’t tell him I told you-“

“Patient confidentiality, Stiles. Although this already feels like we’re stepping over those lines a little bit. But, rules were made to be broken. Tell me more.” Derek grinned, plopping back down at the table and gesturing for Stiles to follow.

“Yeah, you should be proud of him. We were hanging out and they were making eyes at each other, and Scott leant over Isaac’s lap to get the TV remote- I think it was a very deliberate movement, but whatever- and Isaac just grabbed him and kissed him. It was kinda gross, but also kinda sweet. They giggled like idiots for like an hour.”

“That is cute. I’m sure Isaac will tell me his side when I next see him. Speaking of which, I noticed you hadn’t booked an appointment this week. Is there a reason for that?”

“No, I just… not this week, ok? Next week, I promise. I’m not slacking, I swear.” He laughed shakily.

“Alright. But even if we’re not having a formal appointment, I’d like to see you at some point in the week to make sure you’re ok. How about we meet up in town on Saturday? We could go for lunch.”

If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d think Derek was asking him on a date. In fact, a little part of him did think that. But he pressed that part of his brain back down into the box where it belonged and regained his reasoning, agreeing with himself that it was a casual meeting. Just lunch. With Derek.

“Yeah, I guess. So, shall I meet you in town?”

“No, I’ll come pick you up. If that’s alright with your dad, that is?”

Going by the look on the sheriff’s face, he clearly thought it was a date too. But it was also clear he was somehow fine with a medical professional who was supposed to be helping his son through his problems taking him to lunch. Considering his position as sheriff, the whole thing sounded a little too much like a breach of some kind of code for him to approve of. But, low and behold, he nodded and smiled earnestly at Derek.

“I think that would be great. That’s very kind of you, Derek. I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing here.”

“It’s no problem. Stiles is very open to receiving help- it’s refreshing. He’s doing well.”

“I think that’s my cue to leave before this turns sour.” Stiles piped up, rolling back and forth on his heels.

“I should probably go too, it’s getting a little late.” Derek muttered, glancing up at the clock mounted on the far wall. “Thank you for dinner. It’s been a pleasure hearing all your stories about Stiles as a kid… don’t think we won’t be talking about those later.” He winked.

“Oh god. That is exactly what I meant by sour.”

Derek leant over to clap Stile on the shoulder and pull him into a hug, giving him a small squeeze before quietly slipping out, the sheriff escorting him to the door, looking back at Stiles only to raise his eyebrows before he disappeared round the corner.

Needless to say, his dad was totally onto him. 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER TIME: I know this whole thing screams 'unprofessional and probably quite illegal', but please remember that this is fiction and I am trying to capture this as best I can. You'll understand it a lot better as the story progresses.
> 
> Also, I know the scene between Isaac and Stiles seems unreasonable. No one talks about their problems that easily, right? But, I do know from experience that sometimes talking to strangers about things is easier than talking to people you know at first. That's why people get therapists. You'll notice I say things like this a lot, because a lot of the more graphic mental health aspects of this are based on personal experience. I know it's different for everyone, but just so you know that I understand it isn't like that for everyone and some people may have found that scene a bit strange.


	5. I Feel The Panic Every Time You Try To Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has bad dates. Not everyone does bad dates like Stiles does. 
> 
> PLEASE READ THE NOTES IT'S IMPORTANT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go.
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of panic attacks and brief mention of suicidal thoughts. If ANY of this is going to trigger or make you uncomfortable, please skip it. I will ensure the next chaopter will have some explanation of what happens so you won't miss anything, but I'd much rather you were all ok. Again, all description of panic attacks is based off of my own experience, and does not apply to everyone.
> 
> On a lighter note, we finally get to find out what Derek is up to! Enjoy, lovelies, and please be safe when reading. Don't read it if it's going to harm you in any way. 
> 
> ~Cat

~

Stiles didn’t sleep that Friday night.

He lay awake in his bed, writhing under the sheets and groaning, trying to force any thoughts of what was going to happen on Saturday out of his head. It happened anytime he anticipated something- the night before that time Melissa took him and Scott to Disneyland, before his birthday the year his dad promised to finally give him the keys to his Jeep…

The night before his mother’s funeral.

So yeah, he didn’t always anticipate good things. But this time, he couldn’t distinguish between excitement and terror. Because he was going to lunch with Derek, and Derek was picking him up in his car, but he was also bound to make an idiot of himself and ruin all the progress he’d made. 

Eventually, he fished a box of Nytol out of the drawer next to his bed, swallowed the dose dry and smashed his face back into his pillow, praying the pills would short circuit his mind for a while so he could rest.

~

It was his father who woke him up around noon.

“Stiles. Stiles, wake up.” He said, clearly attempting to be quiet but not really succeeding. No wonder they never got him to do stakeouts any more. 

“Whaaaat?” the boy groaned, furrowing his brow and wriggling in protest.

“Derek just called. He’ll be here in an hour.”

Stiles shot up at that, throwing the covers away and scrambling to get up, jumping away from his bed like it burned him. 

“Like I was saying,” the Sheriff enunciated, his eyebrows now dangerously close to his hairline. “Derek is picking you up in what is now less than an hour. Wear something nice, would ya?’

“I always look nice.”

“Let me rephrase that- you can wear a t-shirt and a hoodie and jeans, but none of the above can have holes in them.”

Stiles considered his father’s instruction for a minute before he could formulate a response.

“This may be harder than I thought.”

The Sheriff leant forward and ruffled his hair, and Stiles let him. He never tried to stop his dad from being affectionate towards him, no matter how embarrassing it may be. He knew it was what his father needed, to feel close to him and make sure he knew he was loved, even when they were teasing each other. 

He clambered ungracefully into the shower, letting the water relax him for a moment. As it cascaded over his face, the gravity of what he was about to do hit him. It was probably really, really illegal to go on a date with a therapist, more so for a therapist to go on a date with a client. Was it even a date? Was Derek just being a nice guy, and Stiles had read him all wrong?

He didn’t even realise the water had gone cold. As he felt his body begin to shiver, he finally shut off the spray and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and dumping another one onto his head and rubbing it to dry his hair. 

He made an effort to dress as his father had told him (after a fashion- he had to practically climb into his wardrobe to find jeans that weren’t shredded at the knees) and even attempted to do something with his hair, retreating to the living room to calm down for a bit while his dad worked in the kitchen, the sounds of his laptop’s keys clicking and his quiet mutters of ‘stupid goddamn machine’ and ‘It would take less time to send this message by carrier pigeon’ filtering through the open doorway. 

He scrolled through the channels, the sound of his stomach protesting its emptiness distracting him a little. We’ll get something to eat in town, he thought as he settled on an old Friends rerun, twiddling his thumbs.

He could already feel the anxiety beginning to pool in his stomach as it often did, the horrible, tight feeling of paranoia that something was going to go horribly wrong. 

He was so caught up in playing out possible scenarios in his head (he got up to the point where he accidentally falls over someone’s dog and accidentally pushes Derek in front of a bus) he didn’t hear the doorbell ring.

Nor did he hear his dad get up and answer it.

He didn’t even hear his dad or Derek enter the room until a familiar chiseled face leant round the couch and smiled at him, his eyes wide and amused.

“Stiles? You in there?”

Stiles visibly jumped, and Derek rested a hand lightly on his shoulder, his face contorting into one of caution. I made him use his ‘Stiles has just told me something worrying’ face. He thought to himself as he shook his head and brought himself back to reality.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Your father let me in.”

The Sheriff waved from his spot leaning on the kitchen doorframe. 

“It’s fine, really. I was daydreaming.” Stiles chuckled awkwardly, feeling a blush spread wildly across his face and down past the neck of his shirt.

“You ready to go? I figured we’d get lunch first and then maybe walk around for a while.”

“Good, I’m starving.”

Stiles shifted forward to the edge of the couch and stood, careful not to crash into Derek, and followed the older man out to his car, his dad shouting after them to be back by six. 

The car ride into town was almost totally silent, and neither of them really spoke until they reached a diner in the centre of town. They stole a booth in the far corner, and shifted awkwardly as the smiley waitress took their orders.

“Ok, so you’ve probably been wondering why I wanted to see you today. In fact, I know you have, because you worry about everything, and this is something I can definitely see striking chords with you.” Derek smirked.

“Thank you! I knew something was up with all this. So, what is it? Are you a cop? Did my dad set you up? Are you dying?” Stiles sighed, his voice becoming more irate with every suggestion.

“No, I’m not dying. And I’m not a cop. But, your dad is involved somewhere along the line.”

“I knew it.”

“How old do you think I am, Stiles?”

Stiles was taken aback by Derek’s question, and took a second to look down at the table and think.

“Thirty…two?” he said carefully. Derek’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth in mock offense.

“I’ll have you know I’m not a day over 23, thank you very much.”

Ok, so that definitely didn’t add up.

“But… you’re a psychiatrist!”

“Yes. I have a doctorate, that is correct. However, I’m not legally allowed to work in psychiatrics. Not anymore. I’m a volunteer, Stiles. I don’t have a fixed job at the clinic, they can’t give me one.”

“Why not?”

“Are you aware that people with mental illnesses can’t legally help others will mental illnesses?”

“I guess that’s fair, but that still doesn’t answer-“

“Let’s put it this way,” Derek interrupted, “After I got my doctorate, I was all set up to go into a full time job at the clinic. Then, I had a little… family issue. I got really depressed, I got suicidal… it was rough. The clinic psychoanalysed me and told me I wasn’t fit for a full time job, but I was so desperate to help that they promised to give me a volunteer spot if I took a few months out to get some help myself first.”

Stiles sat in silence, unable to formulate a response that could reasonably deal with what Derek had told him.

“So, if you want to know whether this is a date or not, it is if you want it to be. I like you. I really do. And I spoke to your dad when we had dinner together. He’s totally fine with all of this, now that he knows it’s not breaking the law. Dating the Sheriff’s son illegally probably wouldn’t go down too well.”

“So… this is a date?”

“I think it is.”

 

At that point, the smiley waitress returned to dump two huge plates of food in front of them, Stiles stabbing at a curly fry with his fork before the plate hit the table. The two finished their food (Derek paid- despite Stiles trying to wrestle the check off of him and almost falling into his lap), and they took a walk down the main road into the town, chatting absent mindedly as they walked past families, couples, kids in pushchairs- happy people. And as Stiles looked between Derek and himself, and back to the people around him, he thought that maybe he could be one of the happy people, too.

And then he saw something that made his blood run cold.

He stopped, stuck still in the middle of the pavement, his arm dropping by his sides and his bright smile dropping with them.

“Stiles? Are you alright?” Derek questioned, following Stiles’ eyeline to a shop window.

He’d forgotten what time of year it was. He was stupid to have forgotten, but it just slipped his mind.

He felt his chest begin to tighten, his breaths coming shorter and more quickly and his palms beginning to sweat. He looked around frantically for a way to escape, but pedestrians blocked his paths. All he could do was look at it, stare at it and let it bore into his soul. 

The display in the card store window was decorated with huge bouquets of plastic flowers, examples of cards with pastel pink ribbons adorning their fronts, pretty passages written in flowing scripture. And at the helm of it, a huge banner stretching across the length of the shop front, words Stiles always dreaded hearing.

‘Happy Mothers Day!’

His body began to twitch, tiny convulsions coursing through him as his knees shook under his weight. Derek spoke calmly beside him, quietly speaking words of encouragement and calm, but Stiles couldn’t hear him over the sound of the blood pumping in his ears.

He stumbled over to the window and slid down it, crumbling onto the floor and placing his head between his knees, his vision filled with spots as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, silently begging for it to stop.

If you’ve ever wondered what a panic attack feels like, imagine being in the dark. You can’t see anything, and you’re totally alone. Now imagine a hand reaching around your back, a billow of smoke seeping around your chest, tendrils covering your whole body and capturing your lungs. Ghostly hands gripping at them, forging the air out and holding you tight so all you want to do is run away, but it’s holding you in place. You can’t breathe, you can’t see, and all you want to do is make it stop.

That was exactly how Stiles felt as tears poured down his cheeks, sobs ripping through and making it harder to breathe. He was only vaguely aware of Derek, one hand on his shoulder and another holding his face, pulling his head up to meet his eyes.

“Stiles, listen to me. Please, just listen. Concentrate on my voice. Can you still hear me?”

Stiles nodded weakly, and Derek took a deep breath.

“I want you to breathe with me, ok? I’m going to count to four, and you’re going to breathe in. then, hold it until I count to six, and breathe out until seven. Can you do that?”

Another nod, even smaller this time.

“Alright. Breathe in- one, two three four.”

Stiles obeyed, taking a shaky breath, still feeling the imaginary hands clawing at his lungs.

“Now hold it, don’t let go- one, two three-“ 

Stiles let the breath go, returning to panting, and began to cry harder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t, I can’t.”

“You can, I know you can. You’ve beaten this before. Come on, again. Breathe in- one, two, three, four…”

~

That went on for about twenty minutes, Derek teaching Stiles how to breathe again until he was breathing normally, still crying a little, but calmer. Derek had sat down next to him, and was holding his hand loose in his own, stroking circles across his palm.

“Thank you.” Stiles croaked, his voice wrecked from crying and shaky breaths.  
“Don’t thank me- that was all you. You did that.” Derek smiled earnestly, nudging Stiles’ shoulder.  
“I’m sorry I ruined our date.”  
“Eh, everyone has bad dates. This definitely wasn’t my worst.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow.

“Really? You’ve had worse dates than Mothers Day Panic Attack?”  
“Trust me. I’ve had way worse.”

Stiles let out a small laugh, and let Derek help him to his feet and lead him back to the car, their fingers still slightly entwined. 

Maybe Stiles could still be one of the happy people, but no happy person is without their flaws. They’re happy, but they’re not perfect. 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: The whole thing about not being able to work if you have a history of mental illness is PROBABLY true, but I based it off the fact that I tried to look into courses to train to be a therapist or a counsellor and found out most places wouldn't take me on account of my mental state. So, there you go.


End file.
